The Demise of Charity Burbage
by 94 Bottles Of Snapple
Summary: Thoughts remain unspoken; the last moments of Charity Burbage, through her eyes, and another's... Based on the Deathly Hallows movie; SPOILERS. SSxCB


**A/N: SPOILERS AHEAD FOR HARRY POTTR AND THE DEATHLY HALLOWS MOVIE! Just warning you. I don't own Harry Potter or any of its characters; they belong to J.K. Rowling. This is probably the darkest thing I have ever written...**

She was in pain, so much pain, but the aches, the bruises, the cuts were all blurring together, everything was becoming fuzzy... Until.

Until that name.

Snape.

And her vision cleared. There he was, it was no lie, for she could indeed see Severus Snape striding to the long table of monochrome figures. His face was quite pale and gaunt, and she felt a twinge of worry.

There were so many people at the table, all of them ignoring her, and she could expect no pity from any of them. Not the shaking, pale boy with even paler hair, who trembled from between the other figures at the table, all adults. Not from the lovely, assuredly rich woman who looked somehow ragged despite her fancy hairdo and bright red lipstick. She was gaunt and haunted, more so than many of the others at the table, despite the fact that they appeared to be in a worse state than she was.

Then he was speaking... The man, no, not a man, even, at the head of the table. Something about a wand, a wand... The name Harry Potter jumped out at her, but in her level of pain, she could hardly even remember who he was. She could hardly remember who Harry Potter was... A shudder ran through her spine as the wizard stalked down the side of the table, passing many of the people, and then turning back.

"Lucius."

"... My lord?"

The voice was broken and small, and Charity Burbage was startled when she realized, slowly, sluggishly, that this blond man, who looked the most haggard and dead-eyed of everyone at the table, was in fact Lucius Malfoy. Her eyes lazily drifted over the woman sitting next to him and the boy she had noticed before. Charity had never had Draco Malfoy as a student, but she knew who he was. Severus had spoken of the boy often; one of the best Slytherins in his year, he had often said.

Charity, had she been perfectly lucid and not in such a state, would have sneered at the way that Voldemort openly mocked the man whose chair he stood behind. What a despicable coward of a wizard, this Voldemort. And even she, with her fading vision, could see the way that Lucius Malfoy's hands shook as he handed over the only weapon and defense he had; his wand.

It did not set in to Charity what her true predicament was until she was drifting forward. Closer and closer to that pale, demon-eyed, serpentine _thing_. She was going to die, going to die at the hands of this distorted, warped caricature of a man.

And her eyes locked on Severus, if only to escape the cruel, hateful gaze of the most powerful dark wizard in history.

"This is Charity Burbage..."

The rest was a jumble to her, full of words of heritage and bloodline and muggles.

"S-Severus..."

Finally, she was able to croak out his name. And though it was useless, she was going to die and she was desperate, and why, _why_ was he sitting at this table with these people, why?

"Severus, please... We-we're friends..."

Yes, friends, friends... But so much more than just a simple word could describe. He had, despite being quite rude and disagreeable at the same time, shown her the ropes of teaching. She had looked up to him, seen, as Dumbledore had seen, that he was not a cruel person at heart. She had loved him...

And then there was a flash of green, and Charity Burbage was drifting away...

**He hadn't recognized her when he had walked in, thinking the victim was a muggle, or a blood traitor, maybe a muggle-born. He had not wanted to know who it was, knowing as well that he could offer no help to the poor woman suspended upside-down above the Malfoy manor's dining room table, and so he did not look.**

** Until he heard that name.**

** "This is Charity Burbage..."**

** He had to calmly swallow the bile that rose in his throat as he slowly was able to make out her face behind the tear tracks and blood. It was no lie, this poor creature was in fact the lighthearted, equality-minded young Charity Burbage.**

** And as she cried out to him, desperate, pleading, betrayed, he steeled his gaze. No matter what, he could not show any emotion towards this woman. Not unless he wanted to expose himself, and that was something that Severus Snape absolutely could not do. He could not risk the freedom of the whole world for this woman, and beyond that, it would surely get them both killed anyway. He could do nothing for her...**

** So he sat there in a placid silence as the second woman he had ever loved died not a foot from him. And as her body fell to the tabletop, an image of Lily Evans flashed across his mind's eye, superimposing itself upon the figure of the former Muggle Studies professor.**

** And then, as if things could not get worse...**

** "Nagini, dinner..."**

** And then that bulbous, disgusting, gorged, hideous creature slithered onto the table. He closed his eyes briefly, and choked down his anger, pain, and complete and utter nausea at the sight he would surely open his eyes to. It worked, and he knew that Voldemort suspected nothing of the way that he was seething inside and the knots of disgust his stomach was twisting into.**

** Far down the table, he could see that Draco Malfoy was not faring so well. The boy; yes, still a boy, Snape thought to himself, looked positively green. Narcissa had already excused herself, red lips trembling fiercely, and rushed off. But that was not a privilege that Draco could enjoy – not without bringing further shame and disadvantage to his family's already shaky position. And not only was that true, but Lucius, desperate for the Dark Lord's approval, would be absolutely furious.**

** And as much as he tried to focus on these and other thoughts, to distract himself, he could not. He could do nothing to remove the images now seared into his mind of Charity's soulless corpse, or the bloody stains left behind on the table as Nagini slithered back to her master. And he wanted to be ill, if only he could, because he had brought death to both of the women he loved, and he would never be able to forget it.**


End file.
